


Almost Heaven, East Ontario

by ambitiousbutrubbish



Series: Country Roads, Take Me Home [1]
Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: Canon-typical language, Depression, Drug Use, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn, Suicide, actually this is just a full-on romance thanks, re: the title. i make myself laugh so you all have to see it too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24211498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambitiousbutrubbish/pseuds/ambitiousbutrubbish
Summary: Wayne has rules that allow him to live easy; safe in his comfort zone. He’ll break pertnear all of them for Darry.
Relationships: Daryl/Wayne (Letterkenny)
Series: Country Roads, Take Me Home [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747519
Comments: 25
Kudos: 223





	Almost Heaven, East Ontario

**Author's Note:**

> I grew up on a dairy outside a smaller town than Letterkenny is supposed to be, but I’m not Canadian. So forgive me if they do things a little differently over there.
> 
> There’s some pretty frank discussion about the prevalence of suicide and depression in farming communities in here, so please be careful with that. It’s all in the fourth part, particularly the fourth paragraph, so skip that if you need to. I think the general idea of what happens can be pretty easily figured out from reading the rest.
> 
> One thing you gotta know about me is that I only write character pieces pretending to be fics. There’s no plot here, kids.

It doesn’t work out with Rosie. It’s not anyone’s fault, really.

Rosie’s a great gal. A great fuckin’ gal. Best gal he knows that’s not Katy. 

In the end though, they’re just too similar. Wayne’d thought that would make the relationship easy, and for a while it had. But when it came down to it, they both put too much into their work and their hobbies, and they could never find the time to actually be together.

It’s for the best, really, but Wayne does regret it just a bit; that he can’t just be a little more flexible. That he don’t love Rosie just the way that she is, so he could ask her to change something t’make it work. But he does, and he can’t. And like, fuck. It’s not okay to expect someone to change for you if you won’t change for them. And Wayne don’t like change.

Besides that, Rosie wants kids. Which, he doesn’t. They’re messy, loud and unpredictable. He knows how to train a dog; exercise, discipline, affection. In that order. And well, that ain’t the way for kids. Probably don’t talk about “trainin’” ‘em, for one.

He’d thought for a while that he’d end up just havin’ kids anyway; back when he was with Angie, when it had been the next step that they were supposed to take. And he had hoped that maybe they would grow on him over time, if they were his own. But that’s no way for a kid to be raised, with a daddy that don’t really want ‘em. Darry had turned out okay, but it had not been an easy road for him to get there. Quite frankly, it had been pretty touch-and-go for a while there as to whether or not he would.

So Wayne had decided long ago that he was leaving the farm to Katy’s kids, if she had any. Or Darry’s, ‘cause Darry has had no legacy of his own to pass on since the farm was stolen out from underneath him. Failing that, Squirrelly Dan would probably have them; or worst case scenario, Wayne could give the farm to one of Dan’s nieces or nephews. They definitely exist.

The point is that Wayne don’t need kids of his own to pass on his life’s work, please and thank you. He’s got a family, even if it is unconventional.

He won’t leave the property to Samuel, though. He’d sell it to the same conglomerate that bought out Darry’s parent’s farm before it came to that. Fuckin’ hates Samuel.

********************

Wayne and Daryl met in primary school. 

At the time, Wayne had stopped talking at school because his teacher had told him once that he spoke too much, and Darry still had a stutter. And neither were much good at making friends. But Daryl stood up for Katy when some future degens farted in her face and laughed at her when she started to cry, and then Wayne threw a couple of tennis balls at them. And the three of them fell in together as easy as breathing. 

They walked back to Wayne and Katy’s parent’s property after class every day in a chain; Wayne and Darry on either side, holding Katy’s hands to make sure that she didn’t wander off. Wayne and Darry would talk about whatever and toss a ball back-and-forth, with Katy swinging along between them.

Wayne was impressed that Darry already knew how to drive a tractor. His own dad kept saying that it wasn’t safe for Wayne to learn just yet because he was too short to see properly, even though he was bigger than Darry. And Darry knew near everything there was to know about cows, which Wayne had endless questions about. Their farm only had a couple of animals, largely for a personal milk supply and to sell at the produce stand, and it was their mom’s job to look after them. Not that Wayne was a big drinker of the stuff with the whole lactose intolerance deal, but it was still good information t’know. 

And for Darry’s part, he watched Wayne with starry eyes and a dopey grin whenever he talked about scraps he’d been in. 

Sometimes, Katy would make Wayne and Darry hold hands. Said it was so they didn’t feel left out, because it wasn’t fair that she got to hold both their hands and they only got to hold hers. Even rarer: sometimes they’d hold hands when they were alone, too. Wayne knew not to let his dad see it; that he’d cop a yelling, if not a hiding. But Darry would be sitting next to him on a hay bale and swinging his legs, not yet tall enough to reach the ground, or Darry’d be walking beside him picking stones and humming some god-awful song that Katy liked, and Wayne’d reach out and slide their fingers together, palm-to-palm, and Darry would squeeze back and grin. Wayne remembers that it had felt nice. Safe. Like he was really, truly _connected_ to something.

Darry had worn his barn clothes everywhere, even to school. The other kids made fun of the smell; loudly and to his face, the only way that kids were. Wayne knew that the only reason Darry did it was because he had to help his dad every morning with the milking, and he didn’t have time to change between then and walking to class. His dad refused to drive him in, and his mom was already at work by the time they finished. He’d asked Wayne once if the smell really was that bad. Wayne told him it was fine, and Darry never let it bother him again. 

Wayne didn’t say that the smell reminded him of home because, well, that’s just not worth talking about.

Eventually, Katy got old enough that she would screw up her face and squirm away whenever they tried to hold her hand, and so they had stopped doing it too. 

But Wayne has never forgotten how good it had felt.

********************

The thing is, right, that Darry always steps in for him when he needs it. No questions asked, no acknowledgement required. 

Wayne likes things to go a certain way, _needs_ it, even. And when they don’t, Darry picks up the slack. He’s lost count of the seemingly nonsensical “good’n’you?” Darry’s given to people who walk up to them and don’t know the proper, polite way of greetin’ someone. Of the apparently endless and truly disgusting “would you rathers?” Darry can come up with on the spot to abruptly change the subject when Wayne is _done_ with a conversation. The nights that Darry stays late after chorin’ even though he has milking in the morning, because some farmhand they employed for the day put the barley on the wrong side of the barn and it all has to be moved again. It’d be a lie to say he never complains about that last one, but he does it anyway because he knows Wayne won’t sleep properly until it’s done, and he’s a poopy-pants the next day if he doesn’t get at least a full six hours. 

And knowing that Darry will always step in for him, it means that he can always have more fun with Darry, be more relaxed and carefree. Make soft gestures, tell everyone that Darry’s his best bud, because Darry’s so damn proud of that, and it makes his own heart squeeze when Darry grins at him in return. Whine and carry on a little when he doesn’t want to do something, because Darry will laugh at him, but in a nice way; a giggle, like he’s fond. Darry was the only one around when Wayne’d said the softest thing that he’d ever said, was the only one who knew about it for years; and he kept it close, a secret, until he spilled the beans in revenge for Wayne doing the same. 

There’s no one he can go back-and-forth with like he can with Darry, almost instinctual. Even when they were kids, they fed off of each other’s chirping, built it all off dumb little word games that Darry’s speech therapist made him play. Even if he hates callin’ it chirping because it’s something that those hockey tits would say, Wayne and Darry bounce off each other; one as quick as the other, an easy, natural rhythm, like the Earth turning. Darry’s got those freckles and the bouncy curls, and people look at him and see soft and simple. But he can be as vicious as anyone. 

And Wayne likes to live by his rules, but he’ll break pertnear all of them for Darry. 

Like, it’s impolite to kiss and tell. Except if Darry’s asking, because well like, if you can’t tell your best bud about the kissin’ that yer doing, then how are you supposed t’know if you’re doing it right? And Darry says plain as if it were actual fact that he ain’t good looking enough to go around attracting people, but he’s had more sweeties than Wayne and that’s the real truth. Plus, he may not be what’s traditionally considered attractive in a small town like Letterkenny, but he’s almost pretty in his own right. He’d do well for himself in the city; but Wayne’s not gonna be the one t’come out and say it. 

Like, no bum talk. Except if Darry makes a joke about it, and then it’s just a riff waiting to happen. 

Like, no one who does meth is a friend of his. Except for that brief, terrible time when Darry was doing meth, and there was nothing in the world Wayne wanted more than to have Darry back beside him. 

And Wayne’s seen Darry in every state he can imagine, but Darry’s seen him in every state too. When his dad would berate him for carin’ too much when a dog got sick, bein’ too soft, and Wayne would clench his fists so hard he broke skin on his palms. And Darry wouldn’t pry them open for him because they don’t touch like that anymore, but he would hand him a dart or a Puppers just to give him something else to do with his hands. When his parents had died, and Wayne don’t remember much of anything from that night, but Darry had been the one to find him propped up against the back wall of MoDeans, in the snow where he couldn’t be seen from the road, and so hammered that he couldn’t even stand. People’ve been known to die like that. Wayne has no idea how Darry got him home, but the next morning Darry was there at the table, with an unopened tub of yogurt sitting in front of him because he was too busy holding Katy’s hand. Because Darry was always there for the both of them, really. 

So Wayne’ll have the super soft birthday parties, and he won’t complain over-much when Darry tells him to make wishes on stuff like a teenage girl, and he’ll carefully stack bottles and glasses on Darry when he passes out from drinking too much, and he’ll throw his arm around his neck sometimes. And Darry will let him, even though he’d shrug anyone else off except perhaps Bradley, but that’s a whole ‘nother thing. Because Darry ain’t one for bein’ touched, but he’ll break his rules for Wayne, too. And even though they’re soft together, just sometimes, Wayne knows that Darry can be counted on to have his back in a scrap if anyone makes a big deal about it. Wayne can relax a little because Darry is there, and Darry is awkward and so open about it that that it doesn’t really matter, the weird, stiff stuff that Wayne does in comparison.

Darry makes him feel like there’s a place where he can just _be_ , pertnear more than anything else in his world. Like, he don’t have to play a part when he’s around Darry: just be his friend.

********************

Darry grew up working on his parent’s dairy, but his dad skipped town when he was 15 and everythin’ fell apart real quick after that. 

Darry dropped out of school to take over the farming and his mom worked on the books, and it had actually worked alright for a bit. Darry’s a hard worker, and the farming families around were happy to help out for minimal pay to look out for one of their own left in a lurch. But then Darry’s mom turned t’Skiddin’, and that weren’t really anyone’s fault specifically, just the pressures of small-town living, and the silent judgement that came from all around when you had to put your kid to work to survive, and not just because it was the way to make sure they were raised right. Like, ‘kay, it was right and proper to teach your kid your trade as soon as they were big enough to toddle about on their own two legs without face-planting, but when you had to rely on them to put the food on the table while you were still able-bodied yerself, that’s when the whispers started sayin’ that maybe you weren’t fit t’be a parent. 

So Darry’s mom got on the drugs, and pretty soon they couldn’t afford to hire farmhands, and then they couldn’t afford to buy feed for the winter, because she was in charge of the accounts. And when they ran out of money completely, and Wayne was thinkin’ about how he was going to talk his dad into letting Darry and his mom stay with them because they were fer sure gonna lose the house, some supermarket-affiliated conglomerate had come and bought the farm out from underneath them. They let them stay in the house and they kept Darry on to milk mornings, but everybody knew that was only so they could put in their advertising that the dairy continued a tradition of family-operation, and pretend like they don’t rip off farmers with their pricing. And the whispering got louder.

She offed herself soon after, Darry’s mom. Too ashamed that she couldn’t look after her kid or the farm, not seeing any hope for the future. It happens with a disturbing regularity in the circles they run in, a few less ol’ boys at the cattle auctions each time they run; three or four farmers a year, more after a harsh winter or a dry summer or some bad pricing, when they don’t know how they’ll be able to continue to provide for themselves or their family or the animals in their care. Quite frankly, with Darry and his mom, they’re lucky it didn’t all end in a murder-suicide. That happens too, when there are kids and massive debts involved. The community don’t ever talk about it, ‘cept to say that it is obviously a huge tragedy. Wayne thinks they probably should, even though he don’t much like talkin’ about feelings. A man asks for help, you help him. But when he don’t talk about the reasons why he might need it, then he’s not going to be able t’ask for it. 

So Darry lost his dad and his family’s business and his mom, one after the other, and it was no surprise that he was sore about it. But when his mom died she left some of her drugs in the house, and Darry found them because he was only working mornings and he was too far behind in school to come back, so he had the whole day empty just to sit by himself in a house that was owned by the faceless conglomerate that took his livelihood from him. 

It was a real rough time for a while. 

Wayne tried to be there for his best bud as well as he could, but there was only so much time he could spend with Darry when he had to go to school himself, and his dad wanted him at his own property so he could teach him the running of the place. He went over every night to bring Darry food that his mom made, and try to convince him to come and live with him. But Darry was stubborn as a mule, insisted that he wouldn’t take no charity and he wasn’t askin’ for help, so Wayne didn’t need t’help him. 

Even now Wayne’s proudly pretty ignorant about drugs, but lookin’ back on it he can see that they were already starting to affect Darry. 

By the time Darry’s 16th rolls around, Wayne hasn’t seen him in weeks. He still brings a plate over every night, and about half the time it’s empty when he goes back the next day. But the windows are always dark and there’s a couple of racoons setting up a nest under the porch because Darry’d had to give the pups away when they couldn’t afford to feed ‘em, and Darry never answers the door when he knocks. He thinks about breaking it down and forcing his way inside, but he’s scared about what he might find if he does, like maybe it hasn’t been Darry who’s been eating what he’s leaving. 

Katy decides she’s throwing Darry a super soft birthday party anyway, because you don’t fuck with tradition. She goes to his house herself to deliver the invitation, and she comes back furious and says that she slipped it under the door so the damn racoons can’t steal it.

And then it’s the day, and Katy’s got a banner and a cupcake decoration station and a horse dressed up as a unicorn.

And Darry shows up. Wayne’d hug him if it were appropriate.

He’s skinner that Wayne remembers him ever being, and there are deep purple bruises under his eyes. His hands shake visibly, even with his arms hanging loose by his sides. He’s pretty clearly coming down from something, and Wayne doesn’t want to think about how he got it because he doesn’t have any money, and there’s no way he has any of his mom’s stuff left. But Katy puts a tiara on his head even though it don’t sit as well on his curls as it should while they’re so limp and greasy, and she throws a feather boa around his neck, and Darry gives her a wobbly smile. 

Wayne makes him the softest cupcake he can, frosting and glitter sprinkles and those little star decorations that taste like nothing but still try their hardest to break your teeth. He gets his own smile when he hands it to Darry, and he breathes easier than he has in months. 

He sticks by Darry’s side for the rest of the party, close enough that they brush against each other occasionally when they shift. At one point Darry gets a nosebleed out of nowhere and that makes Wayne’s heart skip several beats, but Wayne keeps up a fairly steady commentary of the dumb shit that everyone they know has been doing while he’s been locked up in the house with only himself and the drugs, and Darry even giggles a few times at the things he’s missed. 

And when Katy tells him after the party that he’ll be staying with them for a bit, just until he’s back on his feet proper, Darry agrees.

The next day while they’re out chorin’, Wayne convinces his dad to take Darry on as a farmhand after morning milking is finished. 

********************

The thing is, sometimes Wayne looks at Darry and he thinks “maybe”.

It’s never a full thought. Maybe _what_ , he’s not exactly sure. But it’s a real important maybe.

He doesn’t know if the slow, warm feeling he gets in his chest when he’s around Darry is friendship or family or something different. Doesn’t know if he even likes guys like that, if it’s even possible for him outside of brief, unguarded moments that are over quick as they start.

Beyond some idle thoughts. That maybe he should replace the dart that Darry’s suckin’ on with his own tongue, when they’re side-by-side having a smoke. That maybe, when they’re siting on the porch together, maybe he wants Darry to climb into his lap so he can see if he’s as soft as he looks, a Puppers dangling in one hand, his eyes closed and head tipped back against the side of the house. 

Beyond some dreams that are decidedly not PG, where his subconscious does whatever it wants. But he’s had similar dreams about a fair share of the people he sees around Letterkenny. Gail and Mrs McMurray even, and he knows for sure that he ain’t interested in them. It’s just talk during the day making its way through his brain at night. 

But he can’t test it out, because it’s _Darry_. His best bud for as long as he can remember, and it wouldn’t be fair on him t’be an experiment. And he can’t imagine tryin’ it out with any of the other guys he knows. He saw Stuart’s horn once, and it’s certainly not something he’s keen on repeating.

So Wayne doesn’t know, and it’s not fair to go to Darry not knowing. Because Darry _knows_. 

Darry’s a bit of a sally, and Wayne knows because everyone has always just known about Darry, just from lookin’ at him. Not really a PC thing to say, but it’s true. And also, Wayne knows because he’s caught him at it a couple of times; Darry saying he’s gonna have a dart and Wayne following him out a minute’r so later because he’s gettin’ the craving too and well, ‘kay, it’s a euphemistic dart Darry was after, or something. Plus, Darry pretty openly goes along to the hottest queer hookup spot in Letterkenny. It ain’t exactly a secret.

They don’t talk about it, because it’s impolite to kiss and tell. Or; to see someone kissin’ and then telling, as it may be.

Wayne knows that Darry ain’t exactly straight, and Darry knows that he knows. And he also knows that Wayne is fine with it, because neither of them have never made any sort of deal about it, big or small. 

And maybe he doesn’t have to go to Darry about it. Maybe he can just let Darry know that he’d probably be okay - or more than - if Darry were to come to him.

********************

Wayne and Darry are sitting on the porch. Just the two of them.

Dan hadn’t come in fer chorin’ ‘cause it had been a great day for hay, and they only needed two for the task. And Katy was off doin’ whatever it was that Katy wanted to do. At some hockey game, he has an inkling. She’s had a bit of a tough time recently, but those nutsacks do make her smile when they invite her to watch ‘em play. Wayne’s thinking about learning their names. Not which one is which; that’s far too familiar for the likes of hockey fucks. He don’t want them callin’ him buddy or meanin’ him when they’re talking about “the boys”. But maybe just their names. For making his sister smile, even with a broken heart.

So Wayne and Darry had been doing hay, but they’d had to stop earlier than planned when the dew had made itself known. And they’d put the tractors in park and gone back to the house to grab a couple of Puppers, settled on the porch. Darry lit up a dart, and they watched the sun sitting low on the horizon in the quiet. 

“You know I’m not going anywhere, right super chief?” Darry says, completely out of the blue.

Except maybe it’s not out of the blue. Because the day before, Rosie had gone back to Vancouver. And Wayne had spent today in the Deere with the radio switched off, wonderin’ what his life would be like now, if he and Rosie were just slightly different people. Would she have left him again, if they had kept it up? Probably. She was so dedicated to her job. It was his favourite thing about her. But their mutual dedication had ultimately been what kept them apart, so if they were slightly different and so they were still sweeties, then maybe she wouldn’t have left. And then, would he have even liked her so much?

It had been drivin’ him pertnear distraction, swirling around in his head while he did gentle laps with the baler on the back. And that was just wrong, when he was thinkin’ about Rosie. Because their relationship had been easy, simple, quiet. Wayne’d been pretty firmly in his comfort zone. And now he’s fuckin’ preoccupied and tryin’ his best not to be a poopy-pants about it, but he’s never been much good at hiding how he feels from the people that know him best. Like Darry.

Rosie left him one of the pit pups, now that they’re old enough to separate without too much fuss. The girl, and Wayne holds her in his lap while he thinks about how t’respond to Darry’s declaration. It’s the truth, he knows that well enough. Letterkenny is Darry’s home, same as it is Wayne’s.

“No matter what” Darry continues, not finished, and he reaches across and gives Wayne a couple of slaps on the closest knee. He squeezes it a little on the last one, and from a man like Darry who ain’t one for bein’ touched, that’s real important. Wayne feels it just about everywhere, like it’s every part of him that’s getting squeezed, not just his knee. 

The pup in his lap gives a playful growl when Wayne gives her a little squeeze in return; involuntarily. He manages a “good enough”. It feels like it was pushed out of him, and he’s glad that his tone is naturally so flat that doesn’t betray how hard it was. Darry blows smoke out of his mouth and turns to look at him, soft, goofy grin spreading across his face. 

Wayne doesn’t know what _that_ all means. 

It’s fer sure out of his comfort zone. But maybe that’s a good thing. 

********************

Wayne has absolute loyalty to his friends. If there’s one thing that’s true in their corner of the world, it’s that at the end of the day, your friends are all that you’ve got. The most important thing. You gotta be able to lean on people, else you won’t make it through the offseason or the harvest both.

So Wayne always comes in swingin’ when there’s a scrap, always all in to protect his friends. And Darry, more than most. More than even Katy, maybe. Because Katy is his little sister, and it’s pertnear his most important job t’look after her, but Katy’s a smart girl, tough as nails. And she ain’t above hoofing people between the legs if she needs to. 

Yeah, he beat the shit out of Deirks. Basically the whole town lined up to, even if he got the first shot because Katy’s his sister. But, that was just fulfilling a promise. Also, a favour. Katy’s smacked enough of his exes in the box for him. It’s only right that he step in and do the same for her. Metaphorically speakin’.

It ain’t the same with Darry. He don’t go lookin’ for fights as much as Wayne, but he’ll jump into ‘em just as fast. 

And the thing is, Wayne’s dad taught him and Katy both how to handle themselves in a scrap. If you were a girl, it was okay to fight dirty. You had different priorities when you were attacked. You get away fast, and you get away clean. Hit ‘em where it hurts. But for Wayne, his dad told it was dishonourable for a man to fight that way. You keep your shirt tucked, and you go in straight and direct, fists up so everybody knows what you’re about.

And then, Wayne taught Darry everything he knows about fightin’. Because Darry’s dad was a shithead, and he would shame Darry for bein’ soft and gettin’ teased and for the other kids calling him a pansy, but he never put in any effort to teach him the things that he thought were important. So, Wayne taught Darry how to have a scrap, and if he was secretly hoping that he’d use those lessons and play-fightin’ in the barn to smack his dad between the eyes, well the titfucker went and abandoned him before Darry was big enough to get the power that he’d need to punch him out proper. 

Now Darry can more than hold his own in a scrap. No one Wayne’d trust more to have his back. First choice if he were putting together a group. But between him and Katy, Darry was the more likely to get hurt.

And that’s just unacceptable. 

********************

Darry makes a fuss about his super soft birthday party, same as every year. If Wayne thought it really bothered him then they wouldn’t do it, tradition be damned. There’s embarrassing your friend for fun, and then there’s being actively malicious. But Darry’s vocal reluctance is part of how the whole process works.

Thing is, Darry is 10 ply for sure at times. He smiles like he’s a teenager who’s about to start squealing because they’re getting to go to their first concert, but on the way they’re going to stop and buy the cutest puppy they’ve ever seen. But, Darry’s not sentimental. You can’t really afford to be as a farmer. ‘Specially as a dairy farmer, where your livelihood and really your whole way of life can change on a dime according to the whims of mother nature. And Darry knows that better than most. 

He never even named the cows growing up. Work, not pets. Just called ‘em by numbers and letters accordin’ to their genetic line, like some even sadder version of algebra. Wayne and Katy had done it in secret, on the rare occasions they were allowed around at Darry’s parent’s farm. Katy had gotten to name the two cows they kept on their own property, so Wayne gets the first pick. Plus, Darry is his friend first and foremost, so it only makes sense. 

One year they named all the new calves after Pokémon, and they hung about in the calf barn with Darry, playing out mock battles until his mom came in and let them help feed ‘em. Wayne never knew a calf could headbutt that hard when he stepped in between one tryin’ to steal a teat off another, and Darry had collapsed into giggles when he said that out loud, Pokémon battles fresh on his mind. Darry had one of the calves suckin’ on his fingers, and Katy had asked him why they did that. He told her to come over so he could show her, and when she was close enough he yanked his fingers out of the calf’s mouth and wiped a truly impressive amount of slobber down the front of her shirt. Katy had started shrieking at him and Darry laughed harder than he had before, and it was lookin’ to be a great day until Darry’s dad stormed into the barn, yelling about them slacking off and that Wayne and Katy had better leave right now. 

Darry’s mom had driven them back to their own house in absolute, embarrassed silence, even the radio too much noise. Katy didn’t even mention the rapidly drying drool, which must have made her clothes uncomfortable. As they had pulled into the laneway, Darry’s mom had turned around to look at them in the backseat. “Don’t you kids listen to him.” She had said. “You’re welcome any time.” Wayne and Katy had nodded mutely at her before they opened the car doors and scampered out and into the house. 

They didn’t go back to Darry’s parent’s place for two weeks after that. But eventually the pull of calves became too much and they were back in the barn, Katy trying to trick a calf into kicking Darry in the gut in revenge for getting slobber all over her. 

So, Darry’s soft but he’s not sentimental, and he’d be just as happy to forget about the traditions that his mom had for him. But his reluctance over the whole thing is what allows Wayne and Katy to get away with it, lets them tell themselves they’re doing it to embarrass their friend. 

Because it’s obvious to everyone who spends any time at them, that Darry’s super soft birthday parties are for Wayne and Katy, and not for him. Their parents were tough people who didn’t like to make a fuss, and they never had birthday parties of their own. So Darry’s were what they got, and they made the most of it.

Wayne refuses to let himself be embarrassed by that. Because that’s the whole point of the day: one day a year to really let your softness shine through. 

********************

Wayne's never been one to beat about the bush when it comes to romantic pursuits. Their mom taught him and Katy both that if you want something, well you better toughen up and just ask for it. And you don’t play with people’s feelings, ‘cause that’s just about the worst thing you can do. 

So, Wayne’s at Darry’s super soft birthday party and he’s lookin’ at his best bud all decked out in that stupid tiara and feather boa just so that he and Katy can have some fun without worrying about what their long-dead parents would think. And he thinks fuck it. He’s just gonna go for it. 

He’s been putting out feelers, just little things. Layin’ his arm along the back of Darry’s chair. Gettin’ in real close to light Darry’s dart for him when they’re out together having a smoke. Tapping their knees together when they’re watching TV or sitting at the bar, quick enough that it could be an accident, but everyone who knows Wayne knows he don’t make accidents like that. One time he’d ruffled Darry’s hair before they went out chorin’ for the day, just to see what it felt like. Darry’d got a look on his face like a cat about to start purrin’, all relaxed and eyes close to flutterin’ shut and it had almost started right then and there at the kitchen table, probably would have if Katy and Squirrelly Dan weren’t somewhere in the house and liable to walk in while trying find ‘em. 

And Darry’s not pullin’ away, so Wayne’s got a pretty good feeling that he’s into it too.

They’re sitting on the bench looking at the barn after the party, everyone else gone home. Even Katy and Dan have left, graciously taking on the task of returning the horse to whoever Katy managed to trick into lending them one this year. It’s the hardest part of the whole day, because no one ever manages to keep a close enough eye on the horse when they’re too busy getting hammered, and it always gets into the only liquid around. So every year it turns into the drunk leading the drunk animal. 

Wayne’s fallen just this side of tipsy - even though you could usually light his breath on fire after one of these things - and Darry is right there with him in solidarity. It’s quiet, just the breeze blowin’ softy through the crops and when he turns to look at Darry, the sun sitting low in the sky behind him lights him up like he’s glowing or some shit, the hair that’s falling down into his eyes looks almost golden. It’s romantic as fuck. Wayne’s read plenty of books on the subject so that he’s sure what he’s supposed to do, had all those clues about when someone is sweet on you explained to him, and he knows what romance is supposed to look like. And this is it.

And it’s so fuckin’ hard to say anything. Because if this goes wrong, Darry could destroy him. 

Not just emotionally, though it’d be a kick in the nuts if ever he had one. But he could destroy his business too, Katy’s future. If this doesn’t work out and Darry leaves the farm, then Wayne doesn’t know how it will continue. He owns it of course, it’s his property, but he’s been as good as running it with Darry for so long that he cannot imagine it without him. And that’s a terrifying thought. He’s never had it with any of his sweeties before. The business has always come first, because it isn’t just about him, it is what he can provide for the people he loves. Stability.

But Darry’s a part of that business. And he loves the job almost as much as Wayne does. If things went wrong between them, Wayne is sure that he wouldn’t just abandon it. That’s a comforting thought.

Darry must feel him staring, because he turns away from the barn to look at him. They’re already close. Wayne could count Darry’s freckles, if he were feelin’ so inclined. He knocks their knees together, and this time he doesn’t move them apart, his heart in his throat. Darry looks as scared as Wayne feels, pale like he’s gonna spit, even though he ain’t the one discoverin’ his sexuality as a full-grown adult. Wayne thinks about it, and he could lose a lot if this went wrong, but Darry could lose just about everything. The rest of his family is dead or disappeared. Wayne and Katy are pertnear all he’s got, and he might be like a brother to Katy, but Wayne is her actual brother and she’d choose him every time. He’s not gonna make the first move.

So Wayne presses in until they’re almost hip-to-hip, puts a hand high on Darry’s thigh. Darry jumps, and the movement brings them closer. He can feel Darry’s breath on his face, darts and alcohol and sugar frosting. It’s a two stick problem, really, but he’s sure he’s no better, and he can’t back out now. His voice when he finds it is barely above a whisper, and that's embarrassing, but _real_. “Please.” He says, like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done. And maybe it is.

“Fuckin’, pitter patter.” Darry whispers back, and closes the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> Letterkenny: I am a fun little jokey show about rural Canada. Hope you like me!
> 
> Me: I am Relating.
> 
> I appreciate that the fandom has taken a “Cas” approach on how to spell “Darry”. In that the show says it’s one way, and it’s like, I’m not gonna do that. 
> 
> Also, I cannot stress enough that the version of Take Me Home, Country Roads this is inspired by is actually the Nature Corner theme from the Boonta Vista podcast. Robber crab, snip a dick indeed.


End file.
